


Crime Does Pay

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [25]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Clothed Sex, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mash-up, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trope de Trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Historical AU: Bernie Wolfe and Serena Campbell are successful thieves, but Bernie isn't only successful at robbing Count Gaskell of his jewels, she also robs Serena of her ability to resist.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Crime Does Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for idrkwhichnametouse (on Tumblr) for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 49.Fake Married & 15.Criminal AU. There is less of the Fake Married trope than there should be, TBH, because the Bitch Muse got carried away with the idea for the Criminal AU trope! *rolls eyes*

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Wolfe?” snaps Serena Campbell as her rival saunters through the door of the study she’s currently occupying without permission.

Wolfe snorts. “Same thing as you, I imagine.” She looks Serena up and down in an assessing manner that somehow makes Serena feel like Wolfe has just undressed her with her eyes.

“Knife or miniature Browning in the thigh holster?” asks the blonde in a somewhat bored tone.

Serena swallows down her startlement. “How did you know I’m wearing a thigh holster?” she asks, slightly resentful.

That elicits a second snort from Wolfe. “I didn’t, until you just told me.”

“God, I hate you,” Serena snaps, peeved.

Wolfe smirks. “No, you don’t, Campbell.” She stalks towards her like a predator after prey and Serena finds herself paralysed. Her brain is screaming, _Run! Run!_ at her, but her body is unable to run. There’s always been a heightened sexual tension between the two of them from the minute they met five years ago, both turning up at the same high society ball with the intention of fleecing the rich.

Wolfe reaches her, then pulls her hands from the pockets of her tailored trousers and places them on either side of Serena’s head. She presses her long, lean body lightly against Serena’s, backing her up until she bumps into the wall. She can feel her body reacting in very obviously sexual ways and resents it, yet she can’t help toying with the top button of Wolfe’s waistcoat (cobalt blue at the back and heavily embroidered with gold thread at the front). It’s worn over a fitted dress shirt with silver wolf’s head cufflinks and enough buttons unfastened to reveal Wolfe’s delectable looking collarbones.

“It’s sinful, how good you look in those clothes,” Serena says huskily.

Wolfe smirks. “Looking pretty sinful yourself, Campbell,” she drawls, pushing her well muscled thigh between Serena’s legs. “That dress definitely should be illegal.” 

Said dress is off the shoulder, blood red with a back that plunges to her waist, a neckline that dips to show off her collarbones and cleavage, and which only just reaches to her knees.

“What’re –” She pauses to clear her throat, aware of the flush that’s heating both her chest and her cheeks. “What’re you doing?” 

This, because Wolfe is pressing her thigh more firmly between Serena’s legs and she can feel bolts of red hot arousal sparking down her spine to land squarely between her thighs. 

“What d’you think I’m doing, Campbell? Hmm?”

Serena doesn’t say, _Arousing me in the most unbearably delicious fashion_ , though it’s what she’s thinking. “Distracting me,” she husks.

Wolfe smirks again and Serena has to fight the urge to kiss that damn smirk right off her face. Her incredibly gorgeous face, with its high cheekbones, thin lips, hawkish nose, and dark brown eyes that are deep enough to drown in, Serena thinks. “And how’s that working out for you?” Wolfe asks, her voice warm and calm, despite the fact that she’s still rocking her thigh between Serena’s legs.

“It’s –It’s very effective,” Serena admits, then bites her lip, wishing she hadn’t made that admission.

“Good to know.” Wolfe leans in, as if she’s going to kiss Serena, who closes her eyes in anticipation. “I think I should tell you, Campbell, that you’re quite the most exquisite cat burglar I’ve ever met. But that won’t stop me walking off with the contents of Count Gaskell’s safe.”

Wolfe’s low voice in her ear, her warm breath against Serena’s skin, and the pressure of her thigh against Serena’s core, leaves her speechless and weak-kneed.

“Oh,” she gasps, then she lifts her hands and clasps Wolfe’s face and draws her into a deep, deep kiss. It’s hot, heavy, and deeply fulfilling, and Serena thinks it’s only the press of Wolfe’s body against her own and the wall at her back that keeps her from melting into a puddle of arousal on the floor.

“Fuck!” she gasps as Wolfe increases the pressure between Serena’s thighs and she feels herself climaxing against that well muscled thigh. 

Serena drops her hands to Wolfe’s shoulders as she rides out her climax. She can’t help appreciating the other woman’s athletic body, particularly when it’s giving her such pleasure – and they haven’t even got undressed yet.

“You, Berenice bloody Wolfe, are the absolute limit.”

Wolfe hums, her hot mouth on the spot behind Serena’s ear that does incredible things to her.

“Stop that,” Serena says, feebly pushing at the other woman. Who immediately steps back, leaving Serena feeling bereft, even though she’s the one who told Wolfe to stop. “You can’t just –” she begins.

“I can just. In fact, I did just,” Wolfe says, with yet another smirk.

Serena opens her mouth to retort, just as the door to the study opens and a manservant, a footman she thinks, walks in. 

He raises an eyebrow at them. “Do you have my master’s permission to be in this study, ladies?” he asks, disdain practically dripping from his voice.

“No,” Wolfe says immediately. “I simply brought my friend in here to admire the Count’s collection of erotica. To certain bibliophiles it is a well known collection after all.”

“Nevertheless, I must insist you leave at once,” says the disdainful manservant.

“But of course,” Wolfe says. She slides her arm around Serena’s shoulders. “Come along, my dear. We don’t want to upset the Count, do we?”

“No,” murmurs Serena, suffering herself to be led from the study, though she’s seething with fury inside. If Wolfe hadn’t wasted Serena’s time by walking in when she had, she’d have had the safe open and emptied, and been gone already.

“Keep walking,” Wolfe murmurs, her breath hot on Serena’s ear. “We’re going to collect our coats, then we’ll leave. Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to risk still being here when that supercilious young fellow reports our presence in the library to the Count. It’s likely to lead to an arrest and they’re such dreary things.” She gives Serena a squeeze. “You, on the other hand, are far from dreary and I will certainly enjoying having you again, preferably with a good deal less clothing in our way.”

“You won’t be having me again, as you put it, with or without clothes,” Serena snaps once they’re outside and walking away from the Count’s home.

“No?” Wolfe says in a lazy drawl. “Not even for a share in the Count’s gold and jewels?”

Serena pulls away, then scowls at the other woman, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What?” 

Wolfe smirks, then slides a hand into the front of her shirt, pulling out a leather bag secured with cord around her neck. She opens the bag, then tilts it towards Serena so that she can see the contents: a large number of jewels, most of them diamonds, and several gold bars.

“How did you – When did you – What?”

Wolfe chuckles, resecures the bag, then slips it back down the front of her shirt. “It wasn’t in the safe in his study,” she says, wrapping her arm back around Serena’s shoulders. “It was in the safe in his boudoir.”

“How did you find that out?” 

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Wolfe says. “Are you the jealous type?”

“You slept with _him_?” Serena says, disgusted.

“Please. No, of course I didn’t. I slept with his wife, last week. It was a business arrangement, nothing more. Which isn’t to say that a good time wasn’t had by both parties.” She winks at Serena, then sticks out her hand as a cab approaches. It stops and Wolfe ushers Serena in, who’s too desperate to discover what sort of arrangement she wants to make to allow Serena a share in the Count’s ill-gotten gains to even consider refusing to go with her. Besides, Wolfe promised to take her again and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit, to herself if no one else (although Wolfe undoubtedly knows), that she very much wants that long, lean body pressed against her own, preferably without any clothing to get in the way.

“Where are we going?” Serena asks, realising that she’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard what address Wolfe gave to the cabbie.

“Mmm? Oh, I have a little pied-a-terre not too far away. I thought we could head there and discuss certain arrangements which you might like to enter into. Assuming those are agreeable to you, we can easily and comfortably move from the business part of the evening to the pleasure part. If that’s acceptable to you, Campbell?”

Serena feels like she’s drowning in pleasure already: the warmth of Wolfe’s body pressed against her own in the cab; the heat of desire that’s still lingering – or building up again, more accurately – between her thighs; the tickle of Wolfe’s blonde hair against her face as the other woman leans close to speak to her; and the trickle of her breath against Serena’s ear. She feels like she’s mere seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Good girl.” Wolfe slides a long, elegant finger beneath her chin and turns Serena’s face towards her own. “Very good,” she murmurs, then leans in and slides her lips over Serena’s, her left hand caressing Serena’s knee. Automatically, her thighs fall open, and Wolfe chuckles in her ear. “Really, Campbell? You want me to fuck you here and now, in the back of this somewhat bumpy cab?”

“Please,” Serena begs, all thought of refusing Wolfe gone.

“Very well.” Wolfe slides her fingers up Serena’s thigh, stroking lightly at her skin, before slipping over her mound and cupping her sex. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? Is this from before or now?”

“Now,” Serena admits.

“Oh, my darling girl.” Wolfe kisses her deeply. “You’re so delightful.” She pushes aside the soaked fabric at the crotch of Serena’s drawers, then slides two fingers straight into her slick heat. Serena groans into Wolfe’s mouth and shudders.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Wolfe whispers, her fingers moving rapidly and inexorably inside Serena, sending her hurtling towards another climax. “Just let yourself go, my darling. Let yourself go.”

Serena obeys, helpless to do otherwise. White light explodes behind her eyelids as her climax explodes between her legs. She’s rather glad to not be standing up, once she comes back to herself, because her knees have turned to jelly.

She groans slightly as Wolfe eases her fingers free, then lifts them to her mouth and makes an elaborate show of cleaning them.

“I hope the cabbie didn’t hear too much,” Serena says, a little nervously. 

Wolfe chuckles. “Don’t you worry about my man Dominic – he’s heard all sorts when he’s had me in the cab.”

“The cab driver’s your man?” Serena asks, then wonders why she doubts it. “Of course the cab driver’s your man.” She tuts and gets another smirk from Wolfe. 

The cab slows to a halt and Wolfe climbs out, then hands Serena out with exquisite courtesy. 

“Thank you, Dom,” she calls, and he tips two fingers to the brim of his hat, then clicks to the horses and trots off.

With Wolfe’s arm securely wrapped around her, Serena makes her way into the other woman’s house. Wolfe waves off her servants, saying that Serena had felt unwell at the party they were both attending so she has brought her home to look after her. The servants, a young Black woman and a young white man of similar ages, glance sideways at each other, then nod. 

“Will you be requiring anything further tonight, my lady?” the woman asks.

“Just a hot bath, thank you, Shreve,” Wolfe says. 

“The bath has already been set in front of the fire and filled, my lady,” Shreve says. “There is a cauldron of water set over the fire, too, should you need the bath refilled.”

“Excellent. You think of everything, Shreve.”

“I try, my lady.”

Wolfe nods. “You may retire, then, both of you. Thank you.”

Serena is led from the hallway, through the house, and upstairs to a large, airy bedroom with tall windows that doubtless overlook the grounds, but it’s too dark to see the view, and anyway Serena’s rather more interested in the promised bath – her thighs are sticky thanks to Wolfe’s ministrations this evening and her limbs feel leaden, so she very much wants to sink into a tub full of hot water.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, eh?” Wolfe says, beginning to unbutton Serena’s dress, her fingers nimble as they move down the line of buttons at the side of her dress.

Serena realises that she cannot recall anyone ever bathing her, not since she was a small child, and she decides she should’ve switched to women lovers sooner. Or perhaps, she acknowledges, she should have allowed herself to succumb to the notorious, yet sexy, Berenice Wolfe far sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/631118787435020288/hi-i-love-all-of-your-fics-and-cant-get-enough).


End file.
